


With Grace (Have A Taste of Freedom)

by heartfullofyeo (scenarios)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Arranged Marriages, M/M, Magic, Prophecies, Royalty AU, Slow Burn, dragon eggs are magic & alive, ill update them as i update chapters, tagging is hard, yknow dragons? bc yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenarios/pseuds/heartfullofyeo
Summary: Wooyoung holds all the power in his hands. He just doesn't know it yet. Seonghwa can't accept that his kingdom will be saved by a second-born prince. If anything,heshould be more than enough to do the saving.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been planning on writing this for a while now. i don't know how often updates will come because it's just something i'm indulging myself in. i do have the whole plot outlined though!

Wooyoung understands his duties as the second prince to his kingdom. He always has. Their parents had always emphasized the difference between what it means to be Jeong Yunho, the first prince, and Jung Wooyoung, the second prince. One is to be the ruler and the other, a spare to be used. It’s harsh, yes, but their parents loved them both the same. They merely had different paths for the future. Wooyoung knows this and honestly, he’s okay with being married off.

No, he prefers it this way.

His sweet, sweet Yunho is too soft-hearted. Wooyoung is more than happy to do this. For Yunho, he would do anything.

“Wooyoung!” A shout has him looking up and out the lavish carriage window. Wooyoung sees Yunho running out of the palace doors, Hongjoong scurrying behind him with his much shorter legs. “Wooyoung,” he repeats once again, panting as he reaches his destination: outside the carriage carrying Wooyoung to his, in Yunho’s opinion, doomed fate.

“Yunho, what are you doing?” Wooyoung asks as he motions for Yeosang to open the carriage door. Yunho running is a novelty to him because, out of the two of them, he had always been the proper one—never running, never shouting, always kind and gentle; a proper would-be king, in Wooyoung’s opinion. In contrast, Wooyoung had been a terror to the numerous of tutors their parents hired. Loud and impatient and reckless. Their parents learned the hard way just exactly how strong-willed Wooyoung is.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I tried my hardest to convince them not to do this to you.” Apologies spill from Yunho’s lips. Unshed tears fill up his eyes, threatening to fall with each word he speaks. “There are other w-ways,” his voice wavers, thick with desperation as he tries to convince Wooyoung to fight against this unfair decision. “You don’t have to do this.”

Wooyoung smiles, his heart full with how much concern Yunho has for him. Typical of Yunho to fret whenever the matter involved him in any way. He truly loves his brother. His wealth of kindness is what attracts people to him, and it’s why Wooyoung knows he will be a terrific king.

“Brother, there is no other way, and I don’t mind doing this,” Wooyoung does his best to reassure him. “It’s my du—”

“Bro—Wooyoung,” Yunho interrupts him before he can finish. “I should be the one sent off to marry. You, you are so much better than I am so please. Come with me to convince Mother and Father to reconsider.” Yunho grabs Wooyoung’s hand with both of his, clutching it so gently it hurts. It pains Wooyoung to see his brother practically begging him. It shouldn’t be like this. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Yunho, no. You are the rightful heir to the throne. Our people adore you. They would lay down their lives for you, and I would do the same in a heartbeat. If you can’t accept this, think of me doing this for _you_.”

“But why? Why does it have to be like this?” Yunho protests loudly. “I hear they are cold and barbaric and hold no regard for precious life. I refuse to let you be married off to one of _them_.” He sneers. Wooyoung’s eyes widen in shock and he can see Yeosang’s do the same. Hongjoong goes rigid. These words are what inspire mutiny within.

“Yunho; mind your words! I would have thought you were above such rumors and stereotypes.”

Yunho gasps, coming back to his senses. “I, I apologize. I don’t know what came over me. I just—I worry for you. You are my precious brother Wooyoung. I cannot help it.” Yunho cradles his face with one of his hands. Wooyoung places his hand over Yunho’s, finding solace in the warmth it radiates on his cheeks.

A guard approaches, informing them that preparations are complete and that they await orders from Wooyoung to leave. Nodding, he thanks the guard for the information and dismisses him. Looking back at Yunho, his eyes plead for him to stay and the hand that still holds his tightens its grip.

“I must leave now, brother. Have faith, if not in them, then in me. Please. This will be the only way for tensions to settle between our kingdoms.” Wooyoung takes Yunho’s hand off his cheek and holds it, thumb rubbing over his first knuckle to ease him. Yeosang nudges him, indicating they need to leave before it became too late. Wooyoung lets go of his hands but before he could enter the carriage, Yunho embraces him.

“Stay safe. You will be in my thoughts always, and I will visit the altar daily to pray for you,” Yunho says, hushed in his ear. “Our lady goddess will watch over you and guide your travels in safety.” A pulse of Yunho’s magic overcomes Wooyoung. Security blankets over him with the familiarity of its warmth. He leaves a kiss on Wooyoung’s forehead before stepping back to where Hongjoong stands.

“I will. You are the hope of our kingdom, brother, our future. Stay strong.” Wooyoung enters first into the carriage, Yeosang following him after a bow to Yunho. Wooyoung signals to leave and the carriage starts to slowly move.

Wooyoung won’t look back because he knows if he does, the tears that pooled in Yunho’s eyes will roll down his face. Call him selfish but the last image he wants of Yunho is of him smiling, not crying.

“Sir—”

“Wooyoung. I’ve told you time and time again Yeosang.”

“Sir,” Yeosang ignores him. “Is it okay like this?” He refers to Wooyoung being sent off to be married in a foreign kingdom, especially to a kingdom with a less-than-savory reputation. Yeosang simply worries because all Wooyoung takes are all that is valuable to him, including Yeosang himself, being his right-hand man. He was born just for Wooyoung.

“There is no other choice,” Wooyoung paints the perfect picture of relaxation—eyes closed, head and position reclined back, voice perfectly calm. He is far from being peaceful though. Inwardly, he’s in a state of panic, but he must be brave in the face of his brother. “This is the only way. Keep your faith, Yeosang. That is all you and I have now.”

Yeosang stays silent. This arranged marriage between the two kingdoms will bring security to the island kingdom of theirs and for the mountain kingdom, influence. Prince Yunho’s worries are not unfounded. The kingdom of Luck, despite their name, are reputable for being cold-hearted warriors on the battlefield, slaying without remorse along with companions that made them infamous.

Dragons.

Mighty, element-attributed, terrifying. From what little information comes out of the ironically nicknamed ‘Lucky’ kingdom, only the elite had them. The little information that squeezes itself from between the cracks of their high walls is priceless. The Lucky Kingdom is a force to be reckoned with, and they are fortunate to be an ally. Whereas their kingdom, the kingdom of Oblivion, is known for their blessings. It’s the kind that will protect you.

They have only the sea that separates them from the rest of the world to protect them.

The sun is high in the sky just as they arrive at the sea port. Wooyoung steps out of the carriage, inhaling the fresh, sea-salt air. He looks at the rippling waves glittering underneath the sun rays that reflect. The vibrant kingdom he’s grown up in is bustling with noise, alive with people moving and chattering day and night. A kingdom that never sleeps; that’s what people call them. The moniker bestowed upon them, the kingdom of ‘Life’, because of the blessings and technologies that are developed here. What they lack in manpower makes up for what they are capable of preventing.

It makes sense now, doesn’t it, why the only way can be an alliance by marriage. The Oblivion Kingdom may be valuable, priceless like the precious stone they are named after, but there is fear in what people cannot control.

He boards the royal ship, lilac and gold with their coat of arms being the tortoise engraved on the side and etched onto the royal flag, Wooyoung looks back on his kingdom one last time. His eyes drink up the sight of what it means for the sun to give warmth to a kingdom. His soon-to-be new home is rumored to be nothing like it is here.

“Let us hurry inside, sir. The sun is bright today.” Yeosang suggests.

Wooyoung looks up at the sky, admiring how free the sun is. Where they will go, it won’t be the same. He takes one long, last look at the kingdom’s skyline. It’s his duty to sacrifice himself for the good of his people no matter how reluctant he may be.

He will miss his home, yes. This is where he grew up, loving the people and the beaches of this island and the magic. He will miss his brother, Yunho, as well as his brother’s advisor, Hongjoong. He will miss the familiarity of home. But what he will miss most will be his freedom.

. . . 

It snows here.

The mountain caps are covered in white and the sun doesn’t shine here. No, it isn’t that the sun doesn’t shine here. Rather, it just didn’t shine as brightly as Wooyoung was used to. However, it is winter, so perhaps it won’t snow here everyday for the rest of the other seasons. A little hypocritical considering his kingdom of Oblivion has only sunny days.

When they arrived, they received a warm welcome from the king and queen of this land, all bright-eyed and polite. Their long, heavy outercoats are fitted for the cold weather, leaving Wooyoung to slightly shiver. Pulling outerwear closer to him, he smiles at them with his perfect prince smile.

He doesn’t remember much after arriving. Just that he and Yeosang were introduced to their living quarters and that the ceremony was to commence in three days’ time.

_“Three days’ time?” Yeosang said, aghast. “That’s not nearly enough time for you to prepare yourself. Are they trying to make fools out of us?”_

_“Hush, Yeosang.” Wooyoung is tired. Bone tired. His limbs drag heavy. The trip here was unkind to him and he wants nothing more than to just sleep. “Discuss later. We need all the shut-eye we can afford.”_

_“But—”_

_Wooyoung shook his head. He doesn’t even bother to change out of his travel clothes as he laid on the bed. The worries are loud in his head, but his exhaustion silences them. Just for now, he can afford to not think._

_For now, he can afford to not care._

There is no glimpse of Prince Seonghwa during those three days.

(“A prince with no manners,” quips Yeosang from the side. That draws a sharp look from Wooyoung to him. Yeosang looks properly chastised but he’s stubborn. He won’t apologize for something true.

Wooyoung gestures him to shut his mouth. They are still not welcomed here. Even if it was them to extend an arm out in alliance first.

“The walls have ears, Yeosang. Tread carefully.”)

The ceremony is grandeur. Glittering diamonds hang from the ceiling, windows looming high, pure fresh snow falls outside. It’s almost perfect. Some of his tension melts once he spots Yeosang standing close to him in the corner of his eyes.

They wait for Prince Seonghwa now.  

Unease starts to rise. Murmurs and whispers like, “where is the prince?” and “that poor foreign prince,” start up. Wooyoung tries his best to not visibly show any change in emotion on his face. He succeeds mostly, given that the tips of his ears start to grow hot. He knew relations between their two kingdoms is nonexistent and that prejudice is held but for the prince to miss his own ceremony? It is unheard of. Wooyoung wants to cry. The accumulated stress from the past sleepless days threaten his control over his emotions that have been bottled up.

He’s unacquainted with such acute feelings of humiliation.

It becomes colder the later the day becomes with the faint light of the sun growing weaker and the snowfall becoming heavier. The audience of court members and nobility buzzes with restless energy. They have been here since the wedding ceremony commenced which was earlier today. They are now well into the evening and still, no sign of Prince Seonghwa shows.

Wooyoung sits with Yeosang and with Prince Seonghwa’s nice advisor, Mingi if he recalls correctly, who is just clueless about the whereabouts of the man in question too. First, he doesn’t properly introduce himself to Wooyoung, and now, he is late. Exceedingly so. It’s a miserable.

“Please don’t be too mad at my prince, Prince Wooyoung,” Mingi smiles apologetically at him. Wooyoung holds in the urge to snark back because this isn’t exactly the warmest of welcomes from his spouse-to-be. The lack of communication mystifies him. It truly does.

“No worries, Advisor Mingi. There are no ill feelings held,” he says, giving Mingi his best polite smile. Yeosang stays stoic by his side but there is the slightest raise of his brow that betrays his amusement. He has known Wooyoung for far too long to not be able to tell his tells.

“I’m glad. Please, call me Mingi.” He says it so kindly Wooyoung almost feels bad for not yielding. Almost.

“Please, call me Wooyoung then.”

A sudden hush falls over the room. The members of nobility stand up suddenly. Looking, Wooyoung realizes that it is Prince Seonghwa striding in, overcoat billowing behind him, crown immaculate on top his pretty head as if he has all of the time in the world. Such nonchalance angers Wooyoung, but he bears it. Afterall, it’s on _his_ head to keep it well. His kingdom can’t afford this alliance to go south.

Everything that Wooyoung does after is mechanical. He goes through the motions. They stand in front of the high priestess facing each other. “… for well-being, fortune, and luck, our Prince Seonghwa and soon-to-be-ours Prince Wooyoung shall now exchange blood.”

Three drops of blood each from their ring fingers into their respective cups that held bitter smelling white wine. They exchange cups and cross arms, cups resting in their hands. In the brief second Wooyoung and Seonghwa holds eye contact, the world seemingly stops still. The presence of others fades, the heavy glares that rest upon Wooyoung disappears.

Prince Seonghwa’s gaze is captivating. It steals the breath out of his lungs before he tears his eyes away, settling upon the contents inside the fancy chalices. The white wine and blood intertwine, blood dispersing and tinting it to a blush pink. This is by far one of the oddest traditions Wooyoung has witnessed.

“… for peace and harmony. The combining of two into one, we pray for good fortune and blessings from our lady goddess. Let us now drink from what will grant prosperity and union.”

The cue to drink from the cup startles Wooyoung from how abrupt it is. He lags slightly from Seonghwa who smoothly brings it up to his lips without hesitation. It is just as bitter and sticky as Wooyoung swallows it down. It warms his stomach just the slightest.

“We conclude here. All rise; Bow to our newly betrothed Prince Seonghwa and our now Prince Wooyoung.” The high priestess raises her arms, the garb of her blue robes slips, revealing runes etched into the skin of her wrists that disappear underneath. It amazes Wooyoung each time to witness how different their practices are.

Seonghwa offers his arm once they turn around. Wooyoung resists his urge to _not_ take it. It’s what he deserves for making him, all of them, wait for five long hours without explanation. He takes it because it’s proper and expected. He has no one here besides Yeosang.

They walk out the doors, away from piercing stares, and Seonghwa keeps walking, half-dragging Wooyoung along as they pass the dining hall set for, Wooyoung scrunches his nose, socialization. Realizing they weren’t going to stop for to entertain the soon-to-be crowd, Wooyoung attempts to unravel his arm from Seonghwa but fails. Seonghwa holds tight onto the back of Wooyoung’s hand.

“Excuse me, where are you taking me?” Wooyoung isn’t sure of what else he could say. He doesn’t know Prince Seonghwa—hasn’t even been properly introduced to him as today is his first time seeing him in the flesh. His nerves are unsettled with each step they take further and further away from where they are supposed to be.

“Don’t you trust me?” His legs glide effortlessly. Wooyoung struggles to keep up.

He doesn’t answer, choosing instead to default to his usual, placating smile. Something that won’t give away the sudden annoyance that bubbles up, threatening to overflow from his lips. Those foreign ambassador lessons are really coming into handy now. Just smile, Wooyoung. Just smile.

Seonghwa leads him out to a building made largely out of glass. The front is built with white marble and stands tall in front of Wooyoung. Seonghwa leads him inside and Wooyoung looks up in awe. The ceiling being a patchwork of lattice magic threaded delicately together. It gleams underneath the dark night and from whatever faint lighting there is inside.

Wooyoung gasps, his eyes widening. They come upon a dozen or so colorful dragon eggs nestled securely within the confines of their nest and they emit a faint glow. It’s magical to see—dragons aren’t a common commodity that can be bought. The kingdom of Luck has kept it tightly confined. To be caught selling or trading a dragon is a crime punishable by death or even worse.

“This is where we care for the eggs.” Seonghwa takes him closer, stopping short of touching distance. “They are precious. Irreplaceable. They are what made our kingdom into what it is today.” Wooyoung peers closer but Seonghwa’s hand prevents him from getting any closer.

“Only those who prove themselves worthy may obtain an egg.” Seonghwa punctuates this with an odd look on his face as he looks at Wooyoung. Wooyoung crinkles his nose, unsettled by Seonghwa’s expression.

“And who is worthy?” Wooyoung asks, filing away his tone and expression in the back of his mind.

Seonghwa smiles. It is not a kind smile—rather it is a smile that mocks Wooyoung for his lack of knowledge. His attempts at making Wooyoung feel even more of an outsider to this country works as Seonghwa’s raised brows speaks volumes to him. Wooyoung hates this feeling of unworthiness.

“Those who are able to decipher the whispers of the dragons,” he leads Wooyoung away back outside. “Let us join the others now, Prince Wooyoung. Let us keep this secret between us.” Seonghwa smiles at him once again. They go back, leaving the nursery of dragons. Wooyoung can’t help but get one last look at the eggs. They pulsate briefly to him; small murmurs seemingly fill the room before they officially exit.

His hold onto Seonghwa tightens before relaxing. His hands fidgets and for a moment, he is filled with an acute sense of unexplained longing. His heart aches for reasons unknown to himself. Leaving the proximity of the eggs unsettle him. He must speak to Yeosang when they are properly alone.

. . . 

It isn’t until much later, when Wooyoung is finally in his own chambers, can he relax. Would it be unseemly of him to fall face down first onto the inviting heavy duvet of his bed? It’s only him and Yeosang now. It’s so, so different than from home where the sheets are light and airy and the windows are open to let sunlight stream through sheer, light curtains. Here, it’s heavy and dark and much, much colder. There’s no room for play.

Wooyoung shrugs off his heavy outercoat, relieved to have it off his shoulders. It almost drops to the floor before Yeosang catches it with a huff. He smiles apologetically at Yeosang before dropping himself down on the overly plush armchair they provided him with. The Lucky Kingdom knows no ends to extravagance.

He yawns as he sinks into the seat. He supports his head with one hand as he closes his eyes. The soft clacks of gems hitting each other as Yeosang places his instruments on the table in front of him. A phantom of a touch grazes his hair and cheeks.

“Sir, or, should I refer to you as ‘your highness’ now?” Yeosang speaks just barely above a whisper. He’s worried, Wooyoung can tell, but he shouldn’t be. They practically grew up together so Yeosang should know that he can take more— _much_ more—than this.

“You worry too much, Yeosang. And, like I said, Wooyoung is fine enough.”

“It’s my duty to look after you. To make sure you are in good health. As you said, we have only each other here.” The soft timber of his voice threatens to lull Wooyoung to sleep. His eyes grow heavy, but he keeps them open despite how tempting giving into sleep is.

The late hour makes Wooyoung soft. The unnecessary worrying Yeosang does is endearing and he’s been like this ever since they were young.

“Trust in me, Yeosang,” he says. Yeosang’s eyes glitter like the sun reflecting off the vast sea that surrounds their kingdom, and Wooyoung thinks it’s magical. Magic isn’t to be _done_ , it’s to _be_ —and Yeosang is the embodiment of that. Even if he denies it.

“It is my gift to the prince,” _Seonghwa_ , Wooyoung mouths his name instead. It’s uncomfortable to call the prince with such familiarity.

He stays up the rest of the night, tirelessly working on the bracelet, a gift for the prince. It’s simple and white gold. The stone—an azurite—dull blue, glimmering with specks of gold and emitting a soft golden light. It’s imbued with everything Wooyoung can give it. This is the only way how he can display his faith. Not in Seonghwa—no, he’s done nothing—but his faith in what this marriage could give his kingdom.

“Your highness,” Yeosang’s voice is a comfort despite the sleepiness that clings to his words. “It’s late.”

There’s a sudden weariness that tugs soul deep inside of Wooyoung. His heavy limbs and utter exhaustion from how much he gave to this pretty, precious stone that the prince probably won’t even acknowledge. Considering his treatment of Wooyoung earlier, he can’t help but wonder if he should even _try_.

It’s so tiring, and it’s only been four days.

Four long days.

The way they look at both him and Yeosang here. Like they’re scum; as if they’re incapable of anything and Wooyoung hates that. He’s only sorry he can’t do anything about it. If he could, he’d start with their prince first.

 _The ending’s only just begun_. It echoes around, whispering repeatedly around his ears as he wills his mind to settle. There’s something wrong with this kingdom.


	2. Chapter 2

Wooyoung awakes before the sun fully peaks over the mountains. His eyes are tired and gritty from his brief sleep. Getting only two hours’ worth of sleep.

“Yeosang,” he mumbles out. In a heartbeat, he’s by his bedside, a glass of water materializes in his hand. He takes it, and in this moment, he’s so thankful for Yeosang. The way his heart flutters and it warms his belly from just the knowledge that Wooyoung can depend on him. 

The stillness of the room unsettles Wooyoung. The silence added with Yeosang’s presence should comfort him. Instead it does the opposite. The fatigue washes over him like a tidal wave the instant he sits up. His stint from last night is taking its toll on him but he can’t afford to even falter. One misstep could prove to be the end. He has to stay strong and vibrant. Not dull.

“Is it wise to get up now, your highness,” Yeosang asks him when he slowly dresses himself. Where they are from, it isn’t common to be dressed by others despite their status. Wooyoung can’t imagine Yeosang dressing him anyways. It would take forever because of how meticulous he is compared to Wooyoung’s own neatly rushed outwards appearance. It is why Yeosang is always patting flyaway hairs down or smoothing his robes out, muttering under his breath about his carelessness. It’s not to his level of perfection. Besides that, Yeosang’s fashion is abysmal in Wooyoung’s opinion.

“You didn’t sleep for long. Perhaps another hour would suffice,” He suggests, unable to keep still as he hovers over Wooyoung.

Wooyoung waves him off. Yeosang means well even if he’s in the habit of smothering him sometimes. He stares at the unnecessarily large mirrors that reflect his image back at him. His eyebags are dark and his face sallow and pale from the past couple of days.

Oh well. Sleep is hard to come by. Wooyoung isn’t used to how enclosed everything is in this kingdom. It’s beautiful here, but it’s so, so cold. Lifeless. People behave like statues here; to be looked upon but not to be engaged with.

“Today’s agenda consists of concluding the wedding ceremony with an after party. Involving others,” Yeosang lists off. “Then, the other thing tonight.” 

A sharp knock interrupts them. Nodding to him, Yeosang opens it and it’s Mingi with two others. “Good morning Prince Wooyoung, Adviser Yeosang,” he tips his head to them both. “May I?” He enters first, the attendants, second following his lead, carrying a simple, medium-sized chest.

With a brow raised, Wooyoung says, “it’s early; to what do we owe the pleasure to this visit, Adviser Mingi.” Just catching a glimpse of the chest causes his shoulders to tense up. Mingi raises his hands, probably to as a gesture of peace, but it only further sets Wooyoung on his nerves.

“Tradition,” he merely says as the two attendants open the chest. “For the party,” as they unfold starch white clothing. They stand to the side, alert with their eyes cast down.

“Don’t fight Prince Seonghwa’s magic and you will be fine. Have a good day,” turning his heels, Mingi walks away without any further explanation.

Wooyoung stands stiff as the attendants flit around him, heaps of heavy material being laid on him, overlapping each other and it gets harder to breathe. The coarse white material is oddly soft to the touch. Fur lines the hem of the cape and it’s just so different than from what Wooyoung is familiar with. Once the attendants leave, it’s only then, can he breath and relax his body.

“Tradition,” Wooyoung says under his breath. His eyes meet Yeosang’s through the mirror. “Tradition.”

. . .

It’s like a spectacle. How everyone chatters around talking nonsense, gossiping with each other, about them, like they didn’t have ears. Wooyoung guesses it’s like a sport. Something to devour and destroy. He’s no stranger to it but still.

Seonghwa is already here. Wooyoung feels the beginnings of a headache forming at the top of his head already. Of course, it takes two days for the wedding process here. Of course, it has to be publicized to a grand scale like this. Of course, it has to be extravagant to the T. ‘Nothing but the best for our shining Prince Seonghwa.’

Of course.

A cool smirk splays itself across Seonghwa’s face as he holds an arm out oh-so graciously. Wooyoung takes it, as reluctant as he is, and the only thing he can think about is how vacant it is despite the numerous of people gathered here. Even the coldest of places have warmth originating from somewhere. But, here—it is pristine smiles and immaculate coats and dull eyes. Smooth and flawless and fleeting.

There’s a lull that falls upon the people. Again. Wooyoung is no stranger to this but it’s different than being back home. At least there he didn’t have to constantly look over his back. Not everyone takes kindly to alliances. Even if Wooyoung and Seonghwa are now bounded by oath and blood. Not everyone views the joining of their kingdoms to be a blessing. Yeosang is particularly sensitive to magic. He can smell the sourness of it all. He can taste how bitter the people really are here. For that, it makes Wooyoung pray thrice as hard.

They stop in the center of the room, center of attention. The ceremonial clothing Wooyoung wears stands stark in a sea of dark, velvet colors. Compared to Seonghwa’s own black and silver, Wooyoung could have been mistaken for a saint. Except—saints don’t exist in worlds like theirs. There is no salvation for the wicked.

It’s what he thinks as they begin their waltz.

Wooyoung feels rather than sees the magic around Seonghwa pick up. It’s beautiful to see how each person’s manifests and Seonghwa’s reminds Wooyoung of the slow-moving currents back home. It shimmers in place before dissipating into wisps of light, all funneling into the stark white color of his clothes, slowly dyeing it in colors.

The longer they dance, the more drenched in magic Wooyoung becomes; and the more colors start seeping in. From the corner of his eyes, Wooyoung sees how it disperses like ink being dropped in water. It drips from his shoulder, staining it with hues of pink and violet and blues. It’s a brilliant combination of colors—the colors of Seonghwa—and it drips down, down, down.

And it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

His breath shudders, eyes almost fluttering shut as he steels his spine straight. Knuckled-white and his chest threatening to explode, Wooyoung tightens his grip on Seonghwa. Something like this is intimate. Something like this will never go away. It’s a heavy mark that forever brands them to each other together. It’s instinctive to want to pull his magic out. Seonghwa is an intruder. Wooyoung clenches his jaw before slowly easing it.

Tradition. It’s tradition. Being left in the dark is tradition. Fitting for a kingdom shrouded in the clouds where only dragons occupy its skies.

“Look,” leaning in, Seonghwa surprises Wooyoung by speaking first. There’s this tension that has settled and Wooyoung is afraid it’s coiled so tight that one wrong move could set it off. “I know you want this just as much as I do so let’s make a deal. You don’t get in my way, and everything will be all good. Clear?” He stares down at Wooyoung, eyes dark and intent blatant.

Wooyoung is left speechless. He had always hoped that his future relationship would be comfortable even if it was for duty. Wishful thinking. Yunho had always said that Wooyoung was always a little too naïve. “You think too well of people, Wooyoung. That will lead you to your downfall.” It’s what he had said to Wooyoung after an incident involving a different foreign kingdom—one in the desert who cried wolf and wanted all the riches and protective talismans their kingdom had to offer after a failed attempt to successfully sinking their claws into him.

He’s too naïve. He’s too gutsy. Too stubborn. He’ll suffocate underneath another’s rule. And Yunho tried so hard to set him free. But in the end, he is still only the Crown Prince that listens to his Queen and King. Wooyoung doesn’t begrudge this whole arranged marriage thing. Afterall, he hadn’t protested either. Something about it feels right to Wooyoung. He can’t explain it, but there’s something unseen brewing within these castle walls.

“I rather we try.” Wooyoung says. Instantly, his whole demeanor changes starting with the narrowing of his eyes. “I’m not suggesting we spend every waking moment together. Just, the very least, an effort be made.”

“You don’t seem to understand. You will only be in my way, and I don’t need that. I don’t need you,” Seonghwa tightens his grip on Wooyoung, emphasizes his will. “This marriage,” he spits the word out like it’s worthless and exists to cause him trouble. “Is just a farce. There’s nothing to try for. I’m not asking you; I’m telling you,” Seonghwa leans down closer. The shadows shift across his face making him all the more menacing. “Don’t. Get. In. My. Way.”

Their dance ends like that. Wooyoung’s previously pristine clothes are dyed fully in Seonghwa’s colors, his magic’s branded its mark on his already. Wooyoung feels an uncomfortable tightness that doesn’t belong to him in his chest. It suffocates in its heaviness.

Seonghwa smiles a perfect prince smile before they bow. He disappears into the crowd, abandoning Wooyoung now that his presence isn’t needed.

“Your highness, this way,” Yeosang guides him away from the center to the edges where it’s set up for him to rest.

“Yeosang,” he’s faint from how much energy that consumed from him. “How bad does it look it we leave now?”

Yeosang looks worrying at him. It warms his heart to see. So many say that Yeosang is cold. Heartless because his emotions aren’t easily read but if they know him like Wooyoung does, then they would know that Yeosang is so expressive and kind and easy to read. It’s all in his brilliant eyes.

“No one will fault you for retiring early.” Yeosang says as he looks around the bustling room. People seem to be on the lookout for Wooyoung for a chance to introduce themselves.

“Are you looking for Prince Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asks.

“For Advisor Mingi,” Yeosang corrects. “To tell him you are retiring early this afternoon.”

“It’s okay, Yeosang. There’s no need to bother him. I’ll stay.”

“Nonsense. I’ll inform him of your fatigue,”

Again, Wooyoung is forever grateful for Yeosang. Truly, no one knows him better. “Thank you.”

Yeosang shrugs it off but Wooyoung still spots the tiny smile that he’s unable to entirely hide away. He leaves to inform Mingi or whoever is in charge of his presence since Seonghwa can’t be bothered to spend time with him outside when it is demanded of him to. It is upsetting but Wooyoung knows that sometimes he’s too idealistic for a world like this.

Yeosang comes back shortly and they walk out together. “That was quick. No protests?” Wooyoung asks, surprised at how easy it was.

“You are married to the prince now. A part of the royal family here now. No one can say anything if they wish to not be watched.”

Acknowledging that, Wooyoung hums, “is that so.” He doesn’t see it like that. People talk behind closed doors where they think they are the safest. It’s hard to hide from magic. It’s everywhere and all-knowing and people are fools if they think they can escape from it otherwise. Magic is a scary thing.

“Your highness,” Yeosang starts after they enter his room. “Tonight is—”

“Help me undress first, Yeosang. It’s a lot heavier than I expected, but it’s warm too, I guess,” he mumbles that last bit to himself. He could get used to how they wear layers upon layers upon layers of clothing. It all feels so unnecessary though. Isn’t there some kind of magical device that will keep the palace walls warm? The Lucky Kingdom is mighty in its military prowess yet is also late to the recent technological boom that has been spurring across the kingdoms. Right now, it’s crude designs of ships that fly in the sky; and barely stable teleportation gates that transports from one end of the kingdom to the other.

The idea, and ensuing tentative products, originates from a kingdom located between sand dunes and glass, and it’s began to ship out its technology. It’s rather all amazing to Wooyoung. It also doesn’t surprise him, now that he thinks about it more, that this kingdom holds none of it as it’s still completely reliant on magic and its work.

He dresses back into his flowy robes. Wooyoung rolls his shoulders, simply relieved from the heavy weight the close hold. His room is dark despite the sun shining outside. He parts the heavy curtains, sunlight finally streaming though. Despite the circumstances surround Wooyoung, the day is bright and beautiful. He can’t help but lean against the window, hand supporting his head, as he stares out seeing nothing but a courtyard of flowers and towering walls.

“Tonight is when you … consummate your marriage with the prince,” Yeosang says. Wooyoung knows exactly what he’s thinking given the tone of his voice. But he isn’t one to deny tradition.

“Shall I run a bath?”

“Please do.”

It’s still hours away, but Wooyoung knows that the time will come before he knows it. He holds onto a tiny flame of hope that Seonghwa is not a cruel prince.

. . .

Wooyoung lingers in front of the doors leading to Seonghwa’s room. He paces back and forwards pausing every so often to look at Yeosang. But he can’t do anything to help his situation. He can only give Wooyoung so much comfort. He has always depended on Yeosang to get him out of tight situations in the past so it’s funny now that Yeosang can’t help him this time.

“Your highness, you must enter,” Yeosang whispers to him despite the apprehension that shows in his eyes at the mere knowledge of what is going to happen behind closed doors.

“I will.” Wooyoung winces. He looks up and down the hall needlessly, making sure no servants or guards come tumbling down the halls from the commotion he makes. He bites his lips, worrying them between his teeth as he stares at the handle that leads to Seonghwa’s room. He ignores the frantic whispers that come out of Yeosang as he wallows a little while more in his uncertainty.

Wooyoung jumps when a throat clears behind him. “Should you not be inside already?” It’s Seonghwa with his hair perfectly coiffed and a perfect eyebrow raised. Wooyoung sees his eyes scan down the length of his body before meeting his eyes as he turns to face him.

Wooyoung smiles weakly. “I was waiting for you.”

Seonghwa walks past him, opening the door. Wooyoung supposes this is his cue to enter. Wooyoung scrunches his nose at Seonghwa’s back. Rude. He waves Yeosang off, assuring him that nothing terrible could possibly happen because it’s the prince. Hopefully. Still, it doesn’t prevent the furrow between Yeosang’s brows as Wooyoung ushers him back to their rooms. Yeosang sets a very slow pace back, peering back at Wooyoung every so often before disappearing. Wooyoung steels his nerves, taking a deep breath in, before entering.

There are countless of thick books that fill up the shelves that line a corner of the room. A neat, clustered work-desk occupies that same corner. The room is much like his own, just a tad bigger with more things. The best that lays by the wall gets his breath caught up in his throat.

“Well?” His eyes are torn from the bed and to Seonghwa. He’s changed into his sleeping robes as he emerges from the attached restroom. And Goddess, Wooyoung can’t help but roll his eyes a little whenever he Seonghwa opens his mouth. It’s the way he speaks to him. If he were any lesser, the clear disdain he holds for Wooyoung would be clear as day in his voice. He’s a prince so he’s learned to conceal it. Somewhat.

“So,” Wooyoung speaks to fill the silence. His nerves frayed and on edge. “How shall we proceed?” Seonghwa stares him down, his eyes dark and heavy. Unwavering and unwilling to bend, Wooyoung challenges his gaze as he does not break eye contact.

 

The air feels like it squeezes into itself as it grows tighter—almost suffocating. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything. Merely getting into bed, laying on his side facing away from Wooyoung. “Stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine,” he says after a moment when Wooyoung has yet to enter.

Wooyoung hangs his outer robe up, getting goosebumps from the sudden slight chill that sweeps in the room. His light sleepwear is just slightly sheer. His toes and fingers have already turned cold from the brief exposure outside as he slips under Seonghwa’s sheets. Relishing in the warmth, he brings his knees to his chest as he also faces away from Seonghwa, turning on his side. There is a great amount of space between the two in the center of the bed.

Wooyoung falls asleep like this. He can already hear Yeosang’s voice echoing through his head, admonishing him for being so careless around people he didn’t know. None of that matters though. Not with how utterly soft everything is. His eyes grow heavy as he melts into the bed. The bed shifting next to him registering on the edges of his consciousness. It’s too late though. Wooyoung drifts away into a dreamless sleep.

It’s soft.

That is the first thing that crosses his mind as Wooyoung comes to. It’s soft and warm, and Wooyoung can’t help but rub his face in, inhaling a faint scent of honeysuckle and pine, as he snuggles closer, hugging his pillow tight around the middle. Wait.

With much reluctance, Wooyoung opens his eyes and—yeah, that is Seonghwa. Who he is sprawled all over. Legs tangled too. Yeosang always did say he tends to cling onto the nearest thing in his sleep. Wooyoung sneaks a peek at Seonghwa who, amazingly, is still asleep despite all the wriggling around he does. He takes a second to observe Seonghwa. He’s never seen the prince so … free. Without any extra tension or frown.

Prince Seonghwa looks serene. Wooyoung lays his head back down on his chest. Listening to the beating heart of Seonghwa, he’s lulled back to sleep. It’s warm. It’s comfortable. And, well, it’s Seonghwa.

The next time Wooyoung opens his eyes, it’s because of fingers carding through his hair. Seonghwa tenses as he shifts around before relaxing once Wooyoung stops moving, probably thinking he is still asleep. “Are they going to know?” Wooyoung mumbles into his shirt as he continues to lay on Seonghwa. The hand stops and it simply lays on top of his head now. It’s a comforting weight. Wooyoung has missed days like this.

“No.”

“Hm, okay,” then, “are we supposed to do anything else today?”

“No.”

A knock at the door disrupts any further conversation there could have been. Wooyoung moves to separate from Seonghwa but he holds him tight as he tells whoever is at the door to come in. Whatever, he doesn’t really care. He knows it’s Yeosang given the nervous energy that’s so uniquely Yeosang. Wooyoung detaches himself from Seonghwa as he meets Yeosang holding a change of clothes for him.

“Wait,” Seonghwa calls out before they leave. “For you.” In his hands, an egg. Wooyoung takes it. The shell of it is cold.

“This—”

“Yes,” Seonghwa interrupts him. Right.

Wooyoung gives the bracelet he made over to Seonghwa. It’s encased in its own box to prevent it from damages. “For good fortune and luck. Prosperity smiles on the other side, you must only get there first.” Opening it, the deep blue azurite glitters in acknowledgement. It would appease Wooyoung if Seonghwa wears it. But if not … well, there is no love lost between them in the first place.

They leave.

“Did you,” Yeosang trails off, eyes darting all over the room as he tries to bring himself to say what he wants to ask.

Having mercy on him, Wooyoung laughs, dispelling the nervousness that was rolling off Yeosang in waves. “No,” he denies anything.

Eyebrows raised in question, he looks shocked, and worried, when Wooyoung says that. “But it’s—tradition.”

“Yes. But he did not force nor expect anything,”

“Is that so,” Yeosang acquiesces, dropping the topic for now. “And that?” He refers to the egg—dragon egg perhaps—Seonghwa gives him.

“A dragon egg?” Wooyoung throws out as he turns it over. It’s so, so cold. “A dead dragon egg.” He says in horror.

Yeosang looks aghast. Scandalized. “Your highness, why—”

He shushes Yeosang as he holds it closer to his chest, hugging it. “Do you hear that, Yeosang? Do you feel it?” Shaking his head, Yeosang looks at Wooyoung as if he’s said something absurd.

“Your highness,” he starts slowly. “It is no longer alive. The magic is completely gone.”

Without a though, Wooyoung injects the smallest amount of his magic inside the egg. The reaction is instantaneous. The energy inside jumps at his, playing around and devouring it. Ravenous.

“No, Yeosang,” Wooyoung laughs, breathless and relieved. “You aren’t listening.”

A beat passes. Straining his ears to hear something, anything. But it’s to no avail. There’s nothing but the comfortable hum of their magics co-existing together. There is no other source. Dragons are pure magical beings aren’t they? It would make sense for their eggs to drip in magic yet Yeosang can’t pinpoint an ounce of anything emitting from it.

“There is nothing,” he says confused as he watches Wooyoung continue hugging it.

“There is,” Wooyoung continues. He is adamant that there is indeed something. “You aren’t _listening_ , Yeosang. It is not in the magic around us; it is in the world.” Yeosang falls silent and Wooyoung can see how he struggles to hear what he hears.

There’s a faint, single heartbeat that resounds from inside the egg itself. That’s all Wooyoung needs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for waiting. it's a little short but i feel that it conveys everything i want. i don't know when ch 3 will be posted. perhaps in another two weeks as well? the good news is is that i'm on summer break! the bad news, well, there is none for now and hopefully it stays this way! once again, ty for your patience ♥
> 
> talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/just_Clouds). my cc is linked on my [carrd](https://heartfullofyeo.carrd.co/) too if you prefer that. i really appreciate all of your comments ♥ it's what helps keep me going :)
> 
> have a wonderful rest of your day, wherever you may be.


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